Young Love and Other Stuff
by musicprincess1990
Summary: With Harry's grades falling and his position on the football team in jeopardy, he enlists the help of a private tutor, namely Hermione Granger, his sister's best friend. AU, no magic, Americanized. Don't hate me! Read it before you flame!
1. Busted

A/N: Hiya! So I've hit kind of a dead end with a lot of my stories (shocker), so I'm just throwing in this non-magical story to get my creative juices flowing again. The idea is that I'll get back into writing mode, and once I'm done with this traditional teen romance (because let's face it, they're _extremely_ easy to write), I'll be able to finish my other stories that have been sitting unfinished and gathering dust. So let's hope my evil plan works out as I've anticipated! In the meantime, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, but I did come up with the name for the High school and the town. Any similarities between these places and any actual places in the world are completely coincidental and I promise I'm not trying to rip you off. I'm just trying to entertain people. :) Peace 'n' love!

* * *

A strong, heavy beat thumped throughout the massive house in the small, suburban town of Bridgestone, Arizona. Inside, a horde of teenagers danced to the beat, swam in the backyard swimming pool, drank contraband alcohol, and/or made out in one of the many bedrooms, closets, or any other convenient location. It was the bash of the year—no, the century!—and Harry Potter was proud to be the host.

Thank God his parents were gone till Sunday night.

The aforementioned 'rentals, James and Lily Potter, were computer bigwigs, with all kinds of technological knowledge, which (to their chagrin) did _not_ pass on to their oldest and only son, Harry. Ironically, his younger sister, Emily, inherited the nerd gene, complete with thick-rimmed glasses and know-it-all personality.

But Harry was glad; her obsession with machinery took the heat off of him, allowing him to follow his own dreams... once he found out what they were. For the time being, he was happy to be the quarterback of the football team, as well as the hottest guy at school, which meant dating the hottest _girl_ at school.

Right on cue, his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, slid into the seat next to him, flashing a gorgeous smile his way. "Hey, sexy," she purred, winking saucily.

"Hey, yourself," he smirked, then pulled her in for a long kiss.

"My God, it's like watching animals mate. Get a _room._"

Harry sighed. _Find a happy place_, he muttered in his head, before turning to his sixteen-year-old sister, who stood just a few feet away. A crease formed between his eyebrows at her attire: a faded pair of jeans, a white tank top, and her favorite pair of cowboy boots, which she wore almost daily. And, of course, she was wearing her glasses, which would _almost _be cool, if it weren't for the rest of her ensemble.

"Jesus, Em, if you're going to crash my party, the least you could do is dress like it."

She rolled her hazel eyes. "Please, you're lucky I'm not snitching on your sorry ass. I bet Mom and Dad would _love_ to hear how you're spending your Friday night. Hmm, maybe I should give them a call..." she pretended to muse, then gave him a smug grin, knowing she'd won.

Harry scowled. "_You wouldn't dare_," he whispered.

"Oh, I would, but not without reason," she shrugged, still smirking. "So you'd better leave me and Hermione alone tonight."

Ginny groaned in disgust. "You actually _invited_ that frumpy little prude?"

"Did I ask you for your opinion? No," she answered her own question before Ginny had a chance. "So shut up," she added, just for good measure. The doorbell rang, and she smiled. "That'll be her. Have fun with your stupid party, and please don't do anything _too_ idiotic."

Harry glared after his sister as she walked toward the front door. Ginny drew his attention away, though, and he put on a smile for her, before they launched into a heavy make-out session.

Meanwhile, Emily was leading her friend, Hermione Granger, through the chaotic mess that was the foyer. She frowned at her surroundings, and at the inebriated teens dancing and exchanging saliva in the various rooms.

"Do your parents really condone alcohol consumption at these parties?" she asked warily.

"No, but Harry and I have this deal," Emily explained. "I keep his secrets, he keeps mine. And as long as he cleans up and leaves me out of it, I really don't care."

Hermione's frown deepened, but she chose not to comment. She just followed Emily toward the stairs. On the way there, they passed through the living room, and she spotted Harry, lounging on one of the sofas, chatting with Dean Thomas, who was on the football team with him. His arm was draped over Ginny Weasley's shoulders, and she was gazing at him like he was the answer to life itself. She looked gorgeous in her baby blue mini dress, which contrasted with her brilliant red hair, and seemed very put out that Harry wasn't devoting every ounce of his attention to her.

Hermione might have thought this rather sickening, but, to her great regret, she'd formed a bit of a crush on the star quarterback. She knew, of course, that she had no chance with him, for numerous reasons. He was a senior; she was a sophomore. He was popular; she was a nerd. He had a face to rival that of a Greek God; she was completely ordinary in every respect. Still, that didn't stop the little flutter she felt in her stomach every time she saw him.

Usually, she was content to stare from afar, to admire him without his knowledge. But something changed, something happened. _He looked back_.

It didn't mean anything, she knew; if anything, he was just surprised to see _her_ looking at _him_. He probably didn't even remember her name. But still, seeing him do a double take and meet her eyes caused that fluttering to turn into a somersault. His eyes narrowed, and her face flushed. She'd been caught. Quickly, she turned away, and focused on the back of Emily's head.

Harry watched as Emily and her friend—Helen? Heather?—sprinted up the stairs. Her friend, whatever her name was, she'd been watching him. And then she blushed. In most cases, that meant a crush. It wouldn't be too surprising. He was, after all, _Harry Potter_. But what _did_ surprise him was that he wasn't repulsed by it. In fact... it was kind of flattering. Why, though? Dozens of girls liked him. Hell, he was dating Ginny Weasley! Why should he be so pleased by this nameless girl's approval?

"Harry, you're not listening to me!" Ginny whined.

He started, turning to her with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, babe. What was that?"

But he still wasn't listening as she launched into repeating whatever she'd been saying before. His mind remained on the bushy-haired friend of his sister's, and her lovely blush.

* * *

Emily sighed, closing the calculus textbook with a bit more force that was strictly necessary. "This stupid class is going to kill me," she groaned.

"Take comfort in the fact that you won't die alone," Hermione said, stretching across the carpeted floor, massaging her rather stiff neck. In the process, the strap of her loose pink camisole slid off her shoulder, and she quickly pulled it back into place, exhaling slowly. "Stupid calculus," she muttered.

"We're only a _week_ into the school year, and already I want to kill our teacher."

"Oh, come on, Mrs. Coulter's not that bad."

"She's a demon from hell sent to torture us with useless mathematical equations."

"She's a teacher."

"Same thing."

Hermione laughed softly. "She's just doing her job."

"Yeah, I know," Emily conceded, "but that doesn't mean I can't hate her and secretly wish she would retire early."

"_Very_ early, considering she's only forty-six."

"Whatever," she yawned. "I'm parched. What do you say we grab a soda?"

Hermione stiffened. "The party's still going on."

Emily sat up. "Yeah, but most people will just leave us alone. They won't want to 'catch our nerd-cooties,' or some other such nonsense. Come on," she added with a grin, deftly rising to her feet. "We'll go down, grab a drink, and come right back."

After a few moments of deliberation, Hermione relented, and allowed Emily to help her up. As soon as they opened the door, the sheer volume of the music accosted her ears, and she tensed. She didn't do well with thudding bass and shouted vocals. She preferred the soothing, often haunting melodies of classical music, and the occasional pop ballad. Still, she had to admit that she, too, was rather thirsty, and a nice cold soda sounded amazing.

It turned out Emily was right; the people around them barely even acknowledged their presence. At most, they'd glance their way, wrinkle their noses, then go back to whatever it was they were doing. They reached the kitchen unscathed, and Emily shooed an enamored couple away from the fridge before pulling it open.

"Mountain Dew, right?" she asked.

"Yep," Hermione nodded.

Emily produced a green can, before pulling a blue one (Pepsi) out for herself. They opened their sodas—Hermione jiggled the tab until it snapped off, and she tossed it in the trash—before heading toward the stairs again.

They were stopped, however, when Harry suddenly appeared in front of them.

"Leaving so soon?"

Emily frowned. "We just came down to get a soda, weirdo."

Harry's eyes remained on Hermione. "Heather, right?"

Her heart sank. "Um... Hermione, actually."

"Right," he grinned. "Sorry, I'm lousy with names. You're a sophomore, aren't you?"

"Yes," she replied, confused. Why was he talking to her?

His smile grew. "How do you like high school so far?"

"It's... okay," she replied, then decided to be blunt. "Why are you talking to me?"

For a moment, that smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. "What, I can't have a chat with my sister's best friend?"

"You can... it's just surprising. I mean, five minutes ago, you didn't even know my name. And now suddenly you're talking to me like we're the oldest of friends? I'm sorry, but that just... does _not_ compute." She wasn't sure what was making her talk so much, but once she'd finished, she wished she'd just kept her mouth shut.

Harry stared at her, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide. He didn't _get_ this girl! One minute, she was staring and blushing, and the next she was calling him insensitive (not in so many words, but the subtext was clear). And then, as soon as she was done, she was blushing again! That blush darkened when she met his eyes. Hers were a surprising shade of milk chocolate, just a bit darker than her hair. It was a pretty color, and it suited her.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

"Huh?"

"Harry!" someone called, bringing him out of his stupor. A pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, and then he heard Ginny's voice. "There you are, sweetie! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Well... here I am," he said dully. For some reason, he felt the irrational urge to wriggle free of his girlfriend's grasp.

"I should probably go," Hermione said, looking at the floor. "I'll go get my stuff."

Emily frowned. "You don't have to go yet, Hermione," she insisted. "It's still early."

"Yeah, but I promised my parents I wouldn't stay out too late. And if I go now, I won't have to walk home in the dark."

"You _walked_ here?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

She didn't meet his eye again (he didn't even _want_ to analyze the disappointment he felt at that), but said, "It's no big deal, I'm just a couple blocks away. See you in class tomorrow, Em," she added.

"Yeah, see you."

Harry watched her sprint up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His attention was forced elsewhere when Ginny unceremoniously grabbed his face and planted her lips on his. For the first time, Harry _didn't_ feel like making out with her. _Why?_

Hermione gathered her books and shoved them into her bag, not caring if the many loose papers and assignments got crumpled in the process. She'd copy them onto a nice, new sheet later. Right now, all she wanted to do was get out of that house and get away from _him_. Him and his beautiful green eyes, his dashing smile, and his unsettling gaze.

She brushed past the crowd of people, not stopping to look at anyone, and at long last, made it through the front door—where she bumped right into someone.

"Oh! Sorry, Mr. Potter!"

The dark-haired man smiled. "That's all right," she smiled. "Nice to see you again, Hermione. Studying with Emily?"

"Yes," she replied, and opened her mouth to speak again, but cut herself off when she saw the look on his face. It was one of confusion, and a smidgeon of anger. Mrs. Potter's face bore a similar expression as she came beside her husband.

"What on earth...? What's Harry doing?"

Hermione blanched; she didn't want to be there to witness the inevitable fight. "Have a nice night, Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter," she said politely, then half-ran down the street.

Inside, Harry was trying to pry Ginny's arms off of him, despite her protests. He tried to find Emily, Dean, or someone—_anyone!_—else to provide a convenient escape, but found none. What he _did_ find was that the front door was opening, and two familiar, and _very_ angry faces were coming in.

_Oh, shit_.

"Uh-oh," Ginny muttered, springing away from him like shrapnel.

"Yeah," James Potter frowned, folding his arms. "_Uh-oh_."

He was totally _screwed_.

* * *

A/N: Kind of a slow chapter, but most first chapters are. Please review!


	2. Tutor

A/N: Chapter two! :D

* * *

"Grounded?" Hermione asked incredulously. She was talking to Emily on the phone. And Emily had just informed her that she was currently _grounded_. "For what?"

"For not telling them about the party," Emily muttered listlessly. "I can only leave the house long enough to get the mail. Which is completely pointless, since my mom always gets the mail on her way in from work, but whatever. At least it's only for the weekend, since I wasn't drinking or trashing the house. Harry's punishment is _way_ worse than mine."

Hermione tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the little thrill she felt hearing his name. "So, um... what's his sentence?" she asked as casually as possible.

"A whole month," was her gleeful reply. "Plus he has to find a tutor to get his grades up. That's why they came home early in the first place. They got a call from Coach Drummond. He's supposed to maintain at least a three-point-oh to stay on the team. He finished last year with a two-point-eight."

"Ouch," Hermione grimaced.

"Yeah. He's on probation right now, and he's got until the first game of the season, which is on September 19th, show a significant improvement, or he's off the team."

Once again, Hermione fought a little thrill; the first football game of the year was on her sixteenth birthday. She'd already spoken to her parents about moving their usual celebration to the next day, a Saturday, so that she could go to the game. Not that she really cared much for football, she just went to keep Emily company, who only went to support her brother (and Hermione most definitely did _not_ go for Harry... not even a little bit). But now it appeared that said planning would have been in vain, as Harry might not be playing on the team anymore.

Then she got an idea. An exhilarating, potentially crazy idea. Hermione took a few steadying breaths, then, in a timid voice, suggested, "_I_ could tutor him..."

Emily was silent for a moment. "Seriously?"

Hermione shrugged. "Yeah, I mean... I probably don't know _all_ the material, since I'm two years behind him, but some stuff, like English and Science, shouldn't be too bad. It's all the same, really."

"You want to tutor my _brother?_" Emily asked, incredulous.

"It's just an idea. I wouldn't charge anything, I don't really care about money. And it would just be until the game. That's only a few weeks away."

She still seemed unconvinced. "Why would you subject yourself to such torture?"

Hermione squirmed, grateful that Emily couldn't see her. "It won't be torture. We'll just be studying."

"You _obviously_ don't know him very well. He's a real pain in the ass. Sorry," she amended, remembering her friend's aversion to profanity, "I meant _butt_."

"Well, you're his sister, so you have to say that," she pointed out.

"I'm his sister, so I know better than anyone else."

"Look, I'm not dying to spend my time with him or anything." (_Yes you are_, hissed a traitorous voice in the back of her head.) "It was just a thought. Really, it's up to him to decide. If he'd rather find someone else, that's totally fine with me."

Emily was silent for a moments, then said, "I'll run it past him. But don't say you weren't warned."

Hermione bit her lip in an attempt to quell a smile. Tutoring Harry Potter... it seemed too good to be true!

* * *

"Enjoying house-arrest?"

Harry scowled at his sister as she poked her head into his room. "What do you want?" he growled, leaning his head back on his pillow and staring at the ceiling.

"To annoy you," she said matter-of-factly.

"Job well done. Now get out."

"Temper, temper," she tutted, ignoring his demand and stepping in the rest of the way. "That's not the kind of attitude that will induce me to help you, now is it?"

His eyes narrowed. "And just how do you plan to help me?"

"I can get you a tutor. A _good_ tutor. One that won't charge anything."

He sat up. "I'm listening."

"This tutor doesn't know some of the subjects you're taking, but she's got a knack for working ahead in others, so she'd be able to help you."

"And who is _she?_" he asked warily.

Emily grinned.

* * *

Hermione toyed with the end of one of her braids as she read the riveting story of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. Though she'd read _Pride and Prejudice_ numerous times, their romance never failed to leave her utterly breathless. She smiled faintly as she flipped over the page to continue her reading.

"Good book?" a voice asked.

She jumped slightly, turning to the owner of the voice. _Harry Potter_. What was Harry Potter doing here, in the park? Hermione came here to read _daily_, and she'd never once seen Harry here. She would certainly remember if she had. So why had he come here now, and why was he talking to _her?_

"Um... yeah," she mumbled, shyly tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"What is it?"

"_Pride and Prejudice_," she answered, still not looking at him.

He hummed, as if in approval. "Jane Austen. I'm impressed."

_Now_ she looked at him, surprised. "You know Jane Austen?"

Harry grinned, a crooked little half-smile that set Hermione's heart aflutter. "My mother is quite possibly the biggest Austen fan you will ever meet. She's obsessed with her books, has numerous copies of each of them, including a leather-bound compilation of her complete works."

Hermione felt herself smiling. "I've always wanted one of those," she breathed, not entirely aware that she was speaking aloud. "That's amazing."

Tempting though it might have been to continue this conversation with her—and it _was_ tempting—Hermione suspected he had a reason for coming here. Something occurred to her then. "Aren't you grounded?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, but I managed to sneak away for a few minutes."

"I see," she mumbled. "And... why exactly did you come here?"

"Emily tells me you'd be willing to tutor me."

Her face turned faintly pink. "Oh, uh... yeah, I mean... if you wanted to."

"Honestly, I'll take what I can get at this point," he sighed, sitting on the bench next to her. "And if you're okay with it, then I'm okay with it."

She gave a slight nod. "Okay. So... what subjects do you need the most help in?"

"Well, I'm doing all right in Chemistry, and Auto Shop is a piece of cake. But Math, English, and History are a little over my head. Plus..." he trailed off, and he fought to keep his composure through his mounting embarrassment. "I, um... I had to fill my Fine Arts credit... so I signed up for choir."

Hermione smiled before she could stop herself. "_You?_ In _choir?_"

"Hey, now, I had no choice!" he snapped defensively. "I couldn't do band, because I don't play anything."

"But can you sing?" she asked. "I don't think I've ever heard you sing."

"I can hold my own," he said rather arrogantly.

She shrugged. "Okay, then. I guess you've got that covered. In regards to the other subjects, I can certainly help you with English and History. Math is another story, since I'm behind you in the curriculum. Statistics, right?" He nodded, and she bit her lip, her mind working on overdrive. "It's difficult, but not impossible. I tend to pick things up fairly quickly, so if you give me a chance to read through the book, maybe even take a tape recorder to class, I can study it for myself, and then teach you in a way that you'll more easily understand." As she spoke, she was oblivious to the blatantly shocked expression on his face. However, when she finished, she took note of it, and her own face burned scarlet. "Um... why are you staring at me like that?"

"You're going to study Statistics out of a textbook, and a recording of my classes, and then teach it to me?" he asked dubiously.

Her cheeks grew even warmer, this time with indignation. "You doubt me?"

"Look, no offence, but... you're sixteen."

"And I'm taking Calculus early, so I'm only one year behind you," she pointed out. "I also had a four-point-oh GPA all through junior High, and freshman year I had a three-point-nine, and that's only because I got mono halfway through the second semester, so I missed three weeks of classes, which cost me participation points."

His eyes widened. "Damn. Okay, so you're smart. But you're also human. You really shouldn't bite off more than you can chew."

She frowned at him. "And how do _you_ know what I can chew?"

"I don't," he allowed.

"Well, there you go," she said with an air of finality.

He sighed. "All right. When do we start?"

Hermione grinned. "Meet me here after school on Monday. We can start with English and History. I'll have a tape recorder for you to take into Statistics. Just make sure you okay it with your teacher first. Tell him it helps you study better."

"Okay," he said uncertainly.

Still grinning, she stood from the bench, tucking her copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ into her purse. "Right, well... I guess I'll just see you Monday."

"See you Monday," he nodded.

Hermione had to physically force herself to walk away from him, and as she did, she used every ounce of her strength to keep from jumping for joy. _She was going to tutor Harry Potter. Harry_ freaking_ Potter!_ Suddenly, life didn't seem so bad.

* * *

A/N: "I'm Harry freaking Potter!" Hehe I couldn't resist. ;D Sorry, kinda short, and really rather boring. But it's crucial to help set up the story. The fun stuff comes later. :) Please read and review!


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